


Coming Apart

by 1treehill



Category: Mindhunter (TV 2017)
Genre: Angst, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Major Illness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-18
Updated: 2018-03-27
Packaged: 2019-04-04 08:37:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 13,466
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14016432
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/1treehill/pseuds/1treehill
Summary: Holden Ford is overworked and avoiding dealing with his issues. Sequel to Coming Back.





	1. Chapter 1

One foot in front of the other, the steady pace comforting despite the punishing slam of tender foot on cement. Breathing in through his nose, out through his mouth, everything in rhythm with the pounding of his feet. Holden has no idea how long he’s been running, but his body feels near its breaking point. His lungs burn, muscles strain with exhaustion. Even his vision is blurry due to the sweat running into his eyes. And worst is the headache that won’t go away, going on four days now. But he keeps running because his brain is still full of unwanted thoughts, and he won’t be satisfied until he outruns them.

The interview with Kemper had, on the surface, gone well. Holden kept mostly to the questionnaire and hadn’t resorted to his previous methods of drawing Kemper out, which satisfied Wendy and Shepard, especially. Shepard insists on listening to every interview tape post Richard Speck. But Holden considers the interview a wash. Kemper dictated every moment of their meeting, manipulating Holden and Bill with ease and offering up no further insights into his own past behavior. 

Holden’s brain jumps from thought to thought. Speck and his bird, the shock of the fan and the feathers flying. Speck calling him “little boy.” What had Holden hoped to get out of that psycho? There were some bottomless, dark pits that weren’t worth looking into. Holden wonders if Berkowitz will be different. He hopes to get a chance to interview the Son of Sam killer soon. His intuition suggests an experience closer to Kemper than to Speck. But will the powers-that-be trust him with such a high-profile case after his recent hospitalization and his useless Kemper interview?

Debbie leaves a message on his machine at home, but he doesn’t return the call, for no clear reason. He feels no anger towards her. He’ll eventually return the call, but only because he genuinely wants to know how she is doing.

His loneliness is becoming severe, his apartment more like one of the road trip motels he and Bill would stay at rather than a real home. The solitude helps him hide the effects of his insomnia and anxiety, but does nothing to improve his general situation. Holden feels as if now that he’s no longer connecting with killers, he isn’t connecting with anyone, which seems pathetic even to him.

If Holden doesn’t stop running soon, he risks injuring himself, which would be at the least embarrassing, at the worst debilitating. He slows and then stops. He looks at his surroundings and realizes with alarm that he has no idea where he is. Nothing looks familiar. He bends over, catching his breath, feeling his headache pound along with his heart as his head lowers. He notices a convenience market about a block down and walks slowly towards it.

Holden blushes with embarrassment when he asks the clerk his location. The elderly man gives him a look, concludes that Holden is not joking and tells him, “Dumphries.” Holden asks for a map, and when he unfolds it, sees that he’s about 6 miles from home. He hasn’t brought any cash with him, so he thanks the clerk, takes a deep breath and starts the long walk home, where more aspirin and his couch awaits.

Monday morning, Holden arrives at the office earlier than usual, which means earlier than his coworkers. He slept without nightmares for once, but still feels exhausted. He is currently consulting on five cases simultaneously, two with Bill and three on loan to other FBI departments and local police investigations. Not one of the cases is a back breaker, but the cumulative toll, what with the organization and travel involved, not to mention dealing with a variety of different egos, means every minute of his day has to be planned out to the nth degree.

Soon Wendy, and then Bill arrive, both offering him a professional but friendly greeting. Holden makes some calls and upon hanging up, notices that Bill’s office is empty and Wendy’s office door is closed. The clerks and temps are not in yet, so Holden is alone in the central office area. In the quiet, he makes out a low murmuring of voices on the other side of Wendy’s closed door. He wonders why Wendy and Bill would be having a meeting without him, then feels shame for his paranoia. 

Unable to quell his curiosity, however, he stands up and slowly, silently, makes his way across the open area to Wendy’s office. The voices become clearer, one masculine and growly, the other feminine and cultured. Holden stops about three feet away from the door, feeling a mixture of nervousness and worry. He thinks he hears Wendy mention his name. Then what sounds like “Kemper” spoken by Bill. The headache, or maybe his nerves, cause a buzzing sound in his ears, so most of the conversation is indistinct. But then he’s sure he hears the words “stress” and “undependable,” followed suddenly by the creak of a chair and then footsteps. He turns and practically runs back to his desk before hearing the door open. He then slows his steps and tries to more casually walk to his chair. He hears Wendy tell Bill, “We’ll talk more about this issue later.”

Holden pretends to be making notes on his yellow notepad as Bill passes his desk on the way to his own office. Without looking up, Holden asks, “What was that about, Bill?” 

Not even slowing down, Bill answers, “Nothing. Just some questions about paperwork.” What paperwork? Holden almost asks, but decides it’s none of his business, and if they wanted his input they would ask him. Still, his heart is beating fast and he feels sweat beading on his forehead.

Later in the morning, Wendy asks if Holden would step into her office for a few minutes. “Here we go,” Holden thinks, but again manages to curb his paranoia. He enters Wendy’s office and closes the door behind him. As they take their respective seats, Holden notices Wendy studying him closely. Looking for signs of weakness? Wendy begins, “Holden, I see that you’re currently working on or consulting on five separate cases. This seems a bit much. You know you can ask for help, right?”

Holden breathes in and takes stock. Wendy is just concerned about him. This isn’t necessarily a critique of his performance. “I’m fine,” he says. “Each case, while somewhat complex, is not overwhelming. I can handle all of them.”

“Holden, I’m not questioning your abilities here. Merely asking if you know to ask for assistance if the caseload is too much for you,” Wendy says. “You’ve always been a workhorse, but now that our work is picking up, I need to make sure you don’t overwhelm yourself.”

Holden bristles at that a bit. “I may be younger than you and Bill, but I’m certainly not a child.” Hearing his own words out loud startles Holden. “I’m sorry. That was not what I meant to say,” he amends. “I appreciate your concern, especially in light of my recent behavior, but I do know that I can ask for help. It’s just that… I’m fine. My workload is not beyond my capabilities.”

Wendy doesn’t look convinced. “Regardless, we do need a replacement for Greg. We’re going to be starting the interview process in the next few days.”

“I’d like to be a part of the process this time,” Holden interrupts.

“On top of your five cases?” Wendy asks with a half smile.

“Yes,” Holden says, somewhat sheepishly. “And I might as well throw in my hat now for the Berkowitz interviews too. I sense that he could be our next Kemper, and I’ve been thinking a lot about how to get him to open up.”

Wendy pauses, then says, “Bill and I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

“Bill and I?” Holden thinks, feeling nervous about the phrase for some reason. “Why not?” he asks.

“And the Kemper interviews are on hold as well. We didn’t gain much perspective from our last interview session, so we’re holding off for a bit.”

Holden stares. “We, meaning `Bill and I’?”, Holden says a little bitterly. He needs to get himself under control.

“Holden, while Bill… and I are not technically your bosses, we are the senior members of the team. Of course we want your input on any choices we make.”

Holden has to physically stop himself from shouting, “But this was my idea!” A display of childishness would not help his case. So he just stares at Wendy.

Wendy breaks the silence with, “I do think it’s a good idea that you interview some of the potential team members. Barring Shepard’s intervention, I believe you’ll find good candidates among the CVs we’ve already received.”

Holden feels exhausted. “Is that all?” he asks wearily.

“One more thing. George Hyland Toback is ready to talk. You and Bill are scheduled to interview him later on in the week,” Wendy tells him.

“Okay. Thanks.” Holden gets up, head pounding, and walks out of the office, feeling like a third wheel, the odd man out of his own project. He wants to complain, argue, rail against injustice, but just feels too tired.

Back at his desk, Holden takes three more aspirin and closes his eyes.

Holden studies the file in his lap, while Bill drives. They’re on their way to Mecklenburg Correctional Center in Mecklenburg, Virginia, a maximum security prison with a death row. Just opened a few years before, this visit should offer an interesting comparison to Vacaville’s worn facilities. 

They are interviewing George Hyland Toback, a repeat killer with organizational tendencies. He has admitted to murdering 11 young men, a mixture of hitchhikers and college students. He raped and stabbed them, then dumped them alongside quiet roads and now awaits execution.

A few miles from the prison Bill pulls into a diner so they can have some breakfast. Over runny eggs and crispy bacon, the two agents go over Toback’s file once more.

Bill says, “I would like to take lead on this one.”

Holden replies, “Okay. Wait. Why?” Bill seems a bit nervous to Holden, which sets off alarms. “What’s going on, Bill?”

Bill drinks some coffee before answering. “Holden, have you seen the general profile on the victims?”

“Of course, Bill. I did read the file. They were all young men, teenagers and 20s, Caucasian, fairly uniform in appearance in that they were young white men. Bill, what are you getting at?” Holden’s becoming angry.

“Holden, you very much fit the profile.”

“Yes, I’m a fairly young, white male. There are a lot of us out there, as you may have noticed,” Holden says petulantly.

“And clean cut and attractive,” Bill adds.

“Geez, Bill, I didn’t know you felt that way about me,” Holden snarks. “Listen, I realize most of the victims of the killers we’ve interviewed so far have been young women, but that won’t always be the case. Are you suggesting I’ll be too afraid or intimidated to do my job?”

“Fuck, Holden, I am not questioning your professionalism. Don’t get all high and mighty. I’m simply concerned. We haven’t experienced this before. If the victims were all middle-aged men who smoked, I’d be worried about myself.”

“I don’t believe that for a second, Bill. You wouldn’t think twice about it. I’ve said this before. If I can’t do this job, then I shouldn’t do this job. I’ll take lead and do what I have to do.”

Bill isn’t holding back his own temper. “Do what you have to do? I thought we were beyond that now. What, are you going to be talking about hot young ass to Toback?”

Holden couldn’t even speak for a few seconds, he’s so angry. “Bill, I’m trying to figure out a way to conduct these interviews in a proficient manner where I can get useful information from these subjects and yet not lower myself to their level. It’s not easy, as you know. Can you cut me some slack here? Just let me figure this out!”

Bill looks worried and somewhat chastised. “I’m sorry, Holden. I didn’t mean to say what I did. That was very unfair. I know you’re trying, and I appreciate what you’re doing. That doesn’t mean you have to handle this on top of everything else. Let me help you.”

Holden’s anger flees in the face of Bill’s honest concern. “Bill, I get it. But I’m fine. I just need to figure this out. You’re making assumptions about this case that I don’t believe are realistic.” Holden feels a sharp pulse of pain in his head and lifts his right hand to cover his eyes and presses down.

“What’s wrong, Holden?” Bill asks.

“Just a headache that won’t go away. I’m sure it’s stress. Nothing a few aspirin won’t take care of.” He uncovers his eyes and attempts to focus on a now-blurry Bill, whose expression he can’t quite make out.

“All right, Holden. Don’t say I didn’t warn you. But we’ll do it your way. What’s your plan of attack?”

Holden looks at his now-cold breakfast and, nauseated, pushes his plate away. “From what I’ve read about him, Toback is rather proud of his deeds, and it shouldn’t take much to get him talking. I plan on appealing to that pride by showing how much we know about his MO and his kills, and then going straight to Wendy’s questionnaire.”

“You really believe sticking to the questionnaire will get us the information we need? It sure as hell didn’t work with Kemper last time out,” Bill mentions.

Holden sighs. “I realize that, Bill, but with Shepard on our backs and insisting on reviewing all the tapes, I don’t know what else to do. We could always change the wording on some of the questions to make it seem more casual, colloquial, and so more natural in conversation.”

Bill thinks for a moment, then says, “Sounds like a plan. But if things start to go off track, don’t be surprised if I take the reins. This project is important to me too, kid.”

Holden responds stiffly, “I understand, Bill. I appreciate your patience.”

“Holden, this isn’t strictly a work issue. We’re friends. You know that. There’s no shame in needing a break. I’m worried about you, kid. You’re on the verge of burning out. You should see how you look.”

“How do I look, Bill?” Holden’s annoyance returns.

“Exhausted. Dark circles under your eyes. You’ve lost weight. You need more?” Bill’s mood seems to align with Holden’s.

Holden tries to balance his anger with the kindness he feels coming from Bill. “I get it, Bill. I haven’t been feeling well, I admit it. I have this headache. I’m having trouble sleeping. And I keep running too much. I haven’t been eating a lot either.” There, now Bill knew more than Holden meant to convey.

“You really should see a doctor. No wonder you look like shit.” Holden has to laugh at Bill’s lack of a social filter. “I’ll think about it, Bill.”

Bill looks unsatisfied, but they have an interview to conduct and their appointment time is approaching.

The Mecklenburg Correctional Center looks fresh and new on the outside, but on the inside just a few years of use shows in the faded paint on the walls and the no-longer-shiny scuffed floors. To reach death row, Bill and Holden have to walk through practically the entire prison, ignoring angry stares and the occasional catcall.

The warden has Toback handcuffed, with a chain leading from his arms to the table he’s leaning his elbows on. They are in a small conference room. Toback, at 53 years old, looks a decade older, his careworn face in a permanent grimace. He doesn’t look happy about being there or being shackled.

Holden and Bill sit across from Toback at the table, about three feet away. Too close, Bill thinks. He’s about to start talking when he remembers his agreement with Holden and waits impatiently for Holden to start.

Holden presses the two buttons on the tape recorder to start recording.

“Hello, Mr. Toback. I’m Agent Holden Ford, and this is Agent Bill Tench. We’re from the FBI. I know the warden has informed you about the study we’re conducting and your part in it, if you agree to it. We’ll be asking you a series of questions about your life, the crimes you committed, and we’ll be using that information in our study of similar criminals. Your name will not be used. Do you understand?”

After a half minute of silence, Bill looks over to Toback in confusion. The man is no longer grimacing. He doesn’t look particularly happy, but he’s clearly no longer angry. And he is staring at Holden. Bill suddenly feels on edge.

“Mr. Toback? Does this meet with your approval?” Holden asks, then looks up at Toback. The silence lasts another 30 seconds before Toback finally murmurs, “Yes, yes. That’s good.” Holden looks nonplussed at the odd comment, but continues on with confidence.

“We have a lot of information about your crimes, how you went about picking your victims, the method of killing and of disposal, but we don’t have much information about your childhood. No reports of juvenile misbehavior, no arrests. Can you give us any details of your life up to the age of 18?” Holden asks.

Toback smiles, and Bill thinks instantly that he prefers the grimace. The man is definitely slimy. Toback says, “You got a lot of information on me, huh? I killed a lot of boys. It made me famous. As for my childhood, it was very happy. My mother stayed at home and spent her leisure time beating me with a broom. My father worked so he could drink at the corner bar. Then he would come home and beat me and my mother with his belt.”

Bill doesn’t know what to make of Toback. At least he’s answering their questions, however sarcastically, which is an improvement over scum like Speck. But Bill’s still feeling cautious. There’s something… off about this whole situation.

Holden continues, “What did you do to instigate these beatings?”

A flash of anger appears on Toback’s face and he says, “Mostly just be. But sometimes it happened after I did something, you know, girly.”

“Girly? What do you mean?” Bill asks before Holden can.

“You know, show interest in other boys. Stuff like that.” Toback examines his fingernails. “Parents don’t like that.”

“How did you respond to the beatings? Please be particular,” Holden says.

Toback chuckles darkly. “By turning black and blue. Sometimes bleeding.” He finally turns his stare towards Bill and laughs harder.

Holden, not even cracking a smile, says, “I meant, did you respond by becoming violent yourself? For example, hurting smaller children or animals?”

Suddenly Toback leans forward as far as he can into Holden’s space. Holden holds firm, but with a lot of effort.

Bill says, “Hey, back off there” and stands up, ready to defend Holden if necessary. Instead, Toback smiles shyly and relaxes back into his chair, seemingly abashed.

“Sorry, sirs. I was just stretching my back. I’m not used to being locked down like this,” Toback says after a pause. “To answer your question, yes, I remember killing some small animals. Cats mostly. Nothing too serious. And I liked burning ants with my friend’s magnifying glass. See, the sun would go through the glass and…”

“Yes, we know how that works,” Holden interrupts. “Did you perhaps set other things on fire or turn to any other forms of destruction?”  
Bill notices Toback staring at Holden again, his crinkly eyes looking almost melancholy, but also incredibly intense. The killer says, “You see, I picked them that looked like you because they were so clean and so sweet. I bet you’re clean and sweet too. I could take you and eat you up. Why did they send you to me? Are they trying to test me?”

Suddenly Toback stretches his legs out and tangles them with Holden’s legs, pulling Holden towards him. Taken by surprise, Holden nearly falls onto his back on the floor with his chair, but Bill quickly grabs him around the torso and yanks him away from Toback, both agents then moving back away from the table in shock.

Toback starts shouting, “No, he’s mine! Give him back! He’s mine to fuck! Give the boy back! Stop touching him!”

Suddenly guards run into the room and slam Toback face down onto the table. They unlock Toback’s arms from the chain and begin dragging him out of the room. Toback continues shouting, “Give him back!”

In the sudden silence of the room, Bill releases Holden and asks, “Kid, are you okay? Did he hurt you in any way?” His voice is full of fury and disbelief. Bill pulls himself back and in a much calmer tone adds, “Sorry. You all right?”

Holden’s face is pale and sweaty. He sits down heavily in the chair Bill vacated. The other chair still lies on its back on the floor. He says very quietly, “I’m okay. I’m all right. He didn’t hurt me. I’m just… I’m okay.”

Bill rights the chair and says, “That piece of shit. I knew he was gonna try something. Thank God the warden locked him to the table.”

Holden stares off into the distance, his heartbeat returning to a normal pace. “Yes, thank God,” he mutters. He looks down at the tape recorder and notices it is still recording. He reaches over and presses the stop button. The resulting click sounds loud in the room.


	2. Chapter 2

Shepard demands a meeting with the three people currently making up the FBI’s Behavioral Science Unit. He calls them to his office, not deigning to make his way to the basement this time. Shepard has listened to the Toback tape and questioned Wendy briefly and now wants to hash things out with the agents involved.

Wendy walks over to Holden’s desk and asks, “Ready?” The young man nods. Wendy is struck by how ill Holden looks. It’s almost as if she hasn’t really looked at him clearly over the past few weeks. The agent appears weary, thin and pale. He gazes up at her with a squint, as if the office lights are too bright for his eyes.

“Holden, are you feeling well?” Wendy asks. “I can ask Shepard to postpone this meeting if you need to go home and get some rest.”

Holden is thrown by Wendy’s concern. He’s been feeling like shit for at least a few months now, though increasingly more sick over the past week, and she never seemed to notice. “No, don’t postpone. I need to get this over with. I just have a headache and a stiff neck. The little tussle with Toback didn’t really help. I’m just achy. No big deal.” Holden feels vaguely embarrassed by the conversation.

Wendy gives him a warm smile of support and says, “I’ll get Bill, and we should head upstairs now.”

The three greet Shepard’s secretary and are instructed to go ahead into the office. Shepard sits behind his desk and, as usual, looks a bit surly and unhappy. He asks them to sit and then begins, “Agents, Dr. Carr, as you know, I listened to the tape of the interview with George Hyland Toback. I found it disturbing, to say the least. While I did not find any wrongdoing on the parts of Agents Tench and Ford, I’m beginning to wonder if these interviews are worth the danger inherent in the situation. And I’m also wondering if a simple recognition of the specific danger to Agent Ford could have prevented the entire debacle.”

Bill responds, “With all due respect, sir, Toback hasn’t been prone to violent outbursts or acts of violence since he’s been incarcerated. Everything we knew about him made us expect a somewhat civilized interaction. According to the warden, his attack on Holden was atypical behavior.”

Holden, starting to sense an ugly undertone to this conversation, defensively says, “I wasn’t in any more danger than Bill was. Nothing I said was meant to bait Toback or antagonize him.”

Shepard’s expression turns to complete annoyance as he looks at Holden. “Toback’s victims were all young, good-looking, male, white. Many of them were wholesome-looking college students. Does that sound familiar to you?”

Holden stares in confusion at Shepard and says, “I never thought of myself as being comparable to his victims. For one, I carry a gun and am anything but helpless.” Holden’s headache’s back in full force. He can’t understand why Bill and now Shepard insist he had put himself in danger by facing Toback.

Shepard continues, “You weren’t allowed to bring a gun into the interrogation. You know that, Agent Ford. Why are you making this more difficult? All of you should have been aware that Ford was risking himself with Toback. Yet not one of you did anything to stop this. Either communication is floundering in the BSU or, more likely, Agent Ford is once again using his skills with manipulation to get his way,” Shepard states bluntly.

Holden stands up, seething. “Dr. Carr and Agent Tench respect my ability to determine my own limits, sir.”

Shepard leans back in his chair and says, “I see. So one interview subject threatens to kill you, and another one threatens to rape you, and you see that as within your set limits of acceptability?”

Holden sits back down, breathing raggedly. How did Shepard know that Kemper threatened to kill him? Bill must have reported the entire exchange Holden had with Kemper in the hospital. When did that happen? Why did he assume Bill would keep that particular nugget to himself? His head is swimming with confusion. Did Bill betray his trust?

Wendy takes Holden’s silence as an opportunity to say, “Sir, I don’t think it’s fair to blame Agent Ford for putting himself in danger. As Agent Tench said, we had no reason to believe George Toback would become violent in the interview situation. Now that we know, we will make sure all agents involved with Toback be outside the general profile of his victims. As you know, we are interviewing for the position vacated by Agent Smith, so we can postpone any further interactions until we hire a new agent.”

This seems to placate Shepard somewhat, though he still won’t make eye contact with Holden. “That sounds good. To be honest, I’m still not completely on board with this study of yours, but as long as you have the funding, there’s not much I can do,” he says, ending the meeting.

Back in the relative comfort of their basement office, Wendy goes directly into her office and closes the door. Bill heads for his own office, when he decides to check with Holden first. Holden sinks heavily into his chair and covers his face with his hands. The young man looks practically white and he’s breathing heavily.

“Hey, Holden, you okay?” Bill ask with concern. He’s ready to force Holden to go home if he doesn’t like his answer.

“It’s been a hard day, Bill. I’m just trying to catch my breath,” Holden says, though he isn’t looking up yet.

“Is this still about that headache?” Bill inquires, worry increasing. “You have got to see a doctor about this, kid. I’m not joking.”

Holden responds. “It’s really not that bad.”

“It’s stress, right,” Bill says wearily. “Can I at least convince you to go home early?”

Holden, tired and feeling sick, says without thinking, “The last thing that would make me feel better is going home.”

Bill startles at that, suddenly realizing how lonely Holden must be feeling without Debbie in his life. He guiltily realizes it’s been weeks since the breakup and he hasn’t even asked Holden out for drinks.

“Nancy has been bugging me about asking you back over for dinner. Let me give her a call and you come over tonight. What do you say?” Bill says with some forced cheer.

Holden squints up at Bill with alarm. “Um, well, that’s so nice of you both to ask, but I’ve got plans.”

“Like what?”

Holden answers, “Well, going over some of the cases I’m consulting on. Jogging. And I haven’t been very hungry lately.”

Bill stares at Holden, not saying a word.

Holden sighs and rolls his eyes, smiling crookedly. “Lame, huh? Okay. Sure. That would be great. Tell Nancy thank you.”

“She’ll be happy to see you, Holden,” Bill says with a grin.

Holden dresses down for dinner, thinking about Debbie and her revolts against him using his suit as a kind of armor. He still feels uncomfortable in a casual brown sweater. Leaning over the bathroom sink, he washes his face roughly, trying to force some health into his cheeks. He closes his eyes, telling himself some socializing will be a good thing, something a normal adult would do.

Nancy and Bill greet him together at the door, like the last time, but without Debbie by Holden’s side, he feels the loss keenly. Holden forces a smile on his face, though he’s genuinely happy to see Nancy and her warm smile again.

Dinner is simple but hearty. Holden forces a few bites down, but mainly moves the food strategically around on his plate to simulate eating. The conversation is friendly but somewhat strained. Brian is a constant silent presence at the table. Bill repeatedly attempts to draw the boy into the conversation, but Brian stays quiet, edging close to rudeness to Bill.

Holden’s contributions to the chatter is awkward. Everything he thinks of to bring up seems inappropriate somehow, or of little interest to Nancy or Brian. All this brings Holden’s lack of social graces to the fore, and he realizes he’s feeling even more lonely.

As Nancy starts to clear the table, Holden says, “I’m more than happy to help with the cleaning up or washing the dishes, if you’d like.”

Nancy replies, “Oh, Holden. You’re our guest. You really don’t have to. But if you insist, you can help bring in the dirty plates.”

Alone in the kitchen with Holden, Nancy quietly tells him, “I just wanted to say how sorry I am that you and Debbie broke up. I’m sure you’ll find someone else soon.”

Holden feels touched, though still uncomfortable. “Thank you, Nancy. I have heard from Debbie, a phone call I plan on returning. Maybe we can be friends.” Holden blushes, realizing that he hadn’t even considered such a thing before now.

“Oh, please tell her I said hi. You really should keep in contact. I mean, if it’s not too awkward, you know. Sometimes friendship can be even better than romance. I know you’re a little too young to realize that yet, but it’s true,” Nancy tells Holden with a smile.

“But that’s enough of that,” Nancy continues. “Go out and have a drink with Bill, have some guy time.”

Bill is already relaxing in the study with a glass of whiskey in his hand. On seeing Holden coming his way, Bill hands the glass to him and picks up an identical one on the side table. Brian is sitting in the far corner of the room, playing with Legos.

“Sit down, Holden. Relax. It’s just us, having a drink,” Bill says.

Holden sits, taking a sip of whiskey. He lets the warmth slide slowly down his throat and feels the tension leave his body a little. Another social crutch, he thinks numbly.

“You look better,” Bill remarks. “You still need to see a doctor though.”

“Bill,” Holden warns.

“Fine. We’re not at work. I won’t talk about it now. But don’t think Nancy didn’t notice you avoiding her hard work at dinner tonight. She’s proud of her cooking.”

“The food was great. I’m just not hungry,” Holden offers sheepishly. “I hope she wasn’t insulted.”

“No, Holden, she’s worried, like I am. But I said we wouldn’t talk about that tonight. Could you excuse me? Just a trip to the restroom.” Holden watches Bill leave the room.

In his corner, Brian shoves his hand into a pile of Legos, clattering them loudly. Holden watches for a minute as Brian creates an indistinguishable object. He stands up and walks slowly over to Brian.

“What are you making?” Holden asks the boy and is met with more silence.

Holden keeps watching and then slowly sits down a few feet away from Brian. Earnestly interested in what Brian is building, Holden reaches out and grabs a bunch of blocks and starts building his own object.

“What is that supposed to be?” Brian asks quietly.

Without looking at him, Holden says, “It’s going to be a car. Right now it’s kind of a blobby cube though.”

Brian rattles his hand through a pile of blocks and comes up with a shaped piece. “You’ll need this for the hood,” he tells Holden. “And I have some wheels somewhere.”

“Thanks,” Holden says, looking at the boy and meeting his eyes for the first time. “What are you making over there?”

“I’m thinking it’s going to be a bridge, but I’m having trouble making it bend like a bridge,” Brian answers.

“That’s pretty ambitious. Well, compared to a car it is,” Holden says. And he chuckles.

Brian gives Holden a little smile, and Holden smiles back, his first genuine one in a long while.

A quiet noise catches Holden’s attention and he looks up to see Bill standing in the doorway, with a strange look on his face. Holden thinks he can see humor there, but also what looks like anger.


	3. Chapter 3

Holden finally returns Debbie’s call. She asks to meet him at a diner near her apartment. Without a thought he refuses, telling her, “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

Debbie insists, saying, “Holden, just as friends. I’d just like to see you.”

Holden again can’t come up with a good excuse to avoid socializing, so he agrees, but as he hangs up, he notices his hand is shaking and realizes he’s terrified.

Debbie arrives early at the diner, much to Holden’s chagrin. He had hoped to be the one waiting, the one watching her walk through the door, the one ready for the reunion. She’s sitting at a table Holden recalls they once sat at together. She’s smiling slightly, as Debbie tends to do. She looks fresh and beautiful, and Holden immediately feels dirty and unwell in comparison. He can see in her eyes when her happiness turns to concern at his appearance and can’t wait for this to be over.

Holden sits down next to Debbie and kisses her cheek, relieved that she lets him. “Hey, Debbie. You look great, as usual,” he tells her.

“Holden, it’s good to see you. How are you?” Debbie asks with genuine concern.

“It’s become the question of the year,” Holden tells her with a wry chuckle. And the answer of the year is, “I’m fine.”

“Well, you can’t blame us all for asking,” Debbie notes while clearly giving him the once-over. “You’re looking a bit worse for wear.”

“Thanks,” Holden says with a grimace. “How’s school?”

“Good. Really good. Though I miss having you totally fuck with my studying schedule. I guess a part of me kind of enjoyed the breaks,” Debbie says.

“I was good for something, I guess,” Holden says, looking down.

Debbie lets the silence sit for a while, then, looking into Holden’s eyes, says, “You know, I never really broke up with you. You did it all yourself.”

“I guess I did you a favor then, huh?” Holden says bitterly.

“Yeah, I guess you did,” Debbie responds.

Again, the silence lasts a bit, then Holden says, “I want to apologize, Debbie, for being so self-absorbed, chauvinistic and arrogant. And in particular, I’m sorry about that night you dressed up… for sex. Those high heels. I wasn’t totally honest with you. I’d seen shoes like that in connection with a killer. It wasn’t you.”

“Why didn’t you just say that instead of making me feel like a pervert?” Debbie asks.

“I don’t know,” Holden says, and in his head he hears Kemper’s voice saying, “Now, that is the truth.”

On a Monday morning, Holden and Bill interview an agent named Stan Reynolds as Greg’s replacement in the BSU. Reynolds is a 20-year veteran of the FBI’s science and technology branch. He’s also a forensics expert. Holden briefly wonders why Reynolds would be interested in moving to the basement. The man couldn’t look more square, with his buzzcut, and is clearly proud of his stint in the army during the Korean War. He makes sure that Holden and Bill know he’s seen combat.

Questioning his motives, Holden asks, “Why are you interested in transferring to the BSU after all those years in forensics?”

Reynolds responds, “I don’t pretend to understand exactly what you boys do here. I’m no psychologist. But I am intrigued, especially by the concept of profiling.”

Holden can’t quite figure it out, but something bothers him about the man. Bill is clearly quite taken. Holden can see why. The two men have a lot in common on the surface.

Bill speaks up, “Well, it was really great to meet you, Stan. Everything looks great. We’ll get in touch with you as soon as we make our decision. Thanks for coming in.”

All three men stand up, exchanging handshakes, and Reynolds leaves. Bill looks over to Holden expectantly. Holden shrugs, and Bill rolls his eyes and heads over to Wendy’s office to show her Reynolds’ file.

“Wendy says he looks good on paper,” Bill remarks on his way back past Holden’s desk. “What’s your problem with him?”

Confused, Holden replies, “I didn’t say anything negative.”

“You didn’t have to, Holden. I could see you trying to think of a good reason to reject him. Were you intimidated? He might be as good as you, or, God forbid, even better. Afraid of a little competition?” Bill’s smile has a cruel twist to it.

Holden almost feels hurt. He turns away from Bill and opens a file on his desk. He never figures out how to verbalize his concerns about Reynolds, and within a week, the man becomes the newest member of the BSU.

Reynolds’ first day on the job coincides with Holden’s worst headache to date. The man’s vociferous conversations with Bill sends spikes of pain through Holden’s skull. They seem to want to talk about military service, the politics of the FBI and football. The overflow of testosterone in the office compounds Holden’s weariness.

As lunch rolls around, Holden sees the two men grab their coats and head out of the office. At the last second, Bill turns around and seems to suddenly notice Holden. “Hey, kid, we’re going to that Italian place around the corner. Want to come with?”

Holden gives him a sick smile and says, “Thanks, but I think I’ll just work through lunch. Have fun.”

Bill looks strangely hesitant about leaving, “Are you sure? I promise, no more pigskin talk.”

“I’m sure, Bill. Thanks.” Holden goes back to staring at his file, bringing the conversation to an awkward end.

“See you later, Agent Ford,” Reynolds says in a friendly tone. Holden completely ignores him, and Bill shoots his partner a disgusted look. Holden listens to the men’s conversation as it moves to the other side of the main door. He thinks he hears one of them mention his name, and then the sound of laughter. Holden feels tears build in his eyes, and in disbelief wipes them away. What is wrong with him? He turns his attention back to the photo on his desk of a dead young woman, limbs akimbo, face down, anonymous.

Shepard visits the basement office to inform Bill and Holden that they’ve been loaned out to the FBI office in Dallas to assist on a multiple murder case. Bodies of young women, mostly prostitutes, keep showing up dumped around the Dallas area. The signature of the killer is a cross carved into the women’s lower back with a knife, along with the word “taken.”

Holden and Bill get adjacent seats on the flight to Dallas, but Bill can’t seem to involve Holden in a conversation. Every attempt is thwarted by Holden’s awkward lack of skill with small talk. The young man seems almost angry to Bill. The older man gives up after a while, deciding it might be better to let Holden’s mood, whatever it is, pass.

The taxi drops the two men off at their hotel, Bill cheerfully informing Holden that the agency, for once, paid for two rooms. Holden finally looks Bill in the eyes with an odd, unreadable look.

Bill says, “I thought you’d be glad. This might mean they’re finally giving us our just dues.”

“Yeah, that’s great. You’re always telling me I’m getting in your way anyways,” Holden grouses.

Bill, awkward, says, “Holden, think of this as a good thing, okay? And you can come over to my room anytime you need to talk something over.”

Holden grabs his suitcase, replies, “That’s fine.” Then he walks quickly over to the registration office, leaving Bill behind, a little confused, shaking his head.

The next morning, Bill is surprised that Holden hasn’t come by his room yet. It’s almost 8:00. He calls Holden’s room and the phone rings about seven times before the young agent answers with a very bleary, “Hello.”

“Hey, kid. Where are you? Don’t tell me you’re still sleeping,” Bill says, trying to hide his annoyance and concern.

Bill hears some clattering over the receiver, then Holden swears, “Shit. My alarm didn’t go off. Give me five minutes.”

Bill says, “I’ll give you 15, then you can do me a favor and take a shower” and hangs up.

Holden’s appearance at Bill’s door is as bedraggled as he sounded earlier. All the trappings of the young, crisp agent he usually is are present— pressed suit, perfectly tied tie, shined shoes. But his eyes are red and shadowed by dark circles. Bill thinks even Holden’s hair looks tired.

“Jesus Christ, Holden. You still having that headache?” Bill asks.

Holden answers, “I think it’s more than that. It might be the flu. I couldn’t sleep, which isn’t unusual, but this headache is getting to me. But I’ll take some aspirin with the coffee they’re offering downstairs, and I’ll be fine.”

Holden doesn’t tell Bill about the return of the nightmares, this time featuring a guest appearance from George Hyland Toback, joining the shadow presence of Ed Kemper.

Bill looks Holden over and asks, “Are you sure, Holden? I can handle this first day myself, you know. You can go back to the room and sleep.”

Holden says wearily, “I appreciate the concern, Bill, but I really want to be there from the beginning. But I’ll let you handle the bulk of the social duties, if you don’t mind. I’m certainly not at my best, and I’m sure it’d get back to Shepard if I was a less-than-presentable face of the BSU.”

“Sure, kid,” Bill says with worry showing on his face. “If you agree to let me know if you need to take a break or just come back to the hotel.”

Holden agrees, and they make their way to the Dallas FBI office. The agents on the case seem genuinely excited at their appearance. The killings have been going on for a while, and there have been no new leads in the last month. Bill, in particular, feels a sense of relief and hope at the agents’ positive attitude about profiling.

Holden holds back a bit, letting Bill have his moment in the spotlight, recalling his petty thoughts about the older agent being angry about not having his name in the newspaper. He cringes internally at the memory.

Also, Holden worries that the Dallas agents may be expecting some kind of miracle from them that they might not be able to deliver. He firmly believes in profiling and how its benefits can lead to identifying killers, but realizes there are limitations. Perhaps Holden’s exhaustion is adding to his worry.

But then one young agent turns to him and says, “We’ve heard about the magic you guys have been able to do with closing cases. Boy, do we need that right now.”

Holden smiles, but feels instant concern. These guys are expecting miracle workers and don’t have any sense of the details of the process. Holden looks over at Bill, who appears to be relishing the camaraderie. It must be nice for him to be surrounded by normal people with high-level social skills, Holden thinks glumly. He shakes his head, which causes the pounding to increase, so he closes his eyes for a few seconds.

When Holden opens his eyes, he sees Bill looking over at him with a look of concern. The older man mouths the word, “Okay?” Holden simply nods and smiles in response. Bill accepts this and continues socializing.

Later in the day, Bill looks up from the desk he’s been loaned and sees Holden with his head in his hands. Holden eventually looks up and Bill is struck by how flushed Holden looks. He walks over to his partner and reaches out his hand to Holden’s forehead to check for fever, as he’s done to Brian many times.

Holden pushes back his chair and grabs Bill’s hand with clear alarm. His eyes are wild with fear, and Bill automatically backs off.

“Easy, kid. You look like you’ve got a high fever. I recognize the signs from all the times Brian’s been sick. I was just trying to check. Sorry to startle you.”

Holden feels embarrassed and that makes him illogically angry. “Bill, I’m not Brian. I can take care of myself.”

They both notice the Dallas agents sensing the tension in their interaction and Holden sighs and runs a hand down his face.

“Sorry, Bill. Yeah, I can feel I have a fever. I’m going to go back to the hotel and rest. I’m no good to anybody like this,” Holden says.

“I’ll take you, kid,” Bill says. An agent nearby obviously overhears everything and offers to drive Holden to the hotel. Further embarrassed, Holden agrees and gives Bill an apologetic smile.

Bill spends the evening relaxing on his queen-size hotel room bed, in his undershirt and boxers, half watching TV and half going over a file he brought back from the office. He wonders how Holden is spending his leisure hours. He would go check on him if he weren’t so comfortable and settled for the evening and if he wasn’t sure that Holden wouldn’t appreciate his hovering.

Bill drifts off to the droning of the local TV news and wakes with a start for no apparent reason. He looks at the clock, sees it’s a bit before 11:00 and impulsively decides to call Holden.

“Yes, Bill,” Holden answers this time. He sounds less tired.

Bill tries to think of how to phrase his concern when Holden interrupts with, “Yes, Bill, I’m resting. I’m so tired I actually think I may be able to sleep. You can stop worrying.”

Bill smiles and replies, “Okay, okay, kid. Just checking. I’ll see you in the morning. If I don’t like what I see, you’re staying here to rest. Good night.”

Holden grunts and then hangs up. His head is hurting worse than ever and the aspirin seems to have stopped working. He can barely move his neck, it’s so stiff. And most worryingly, he’s been having problems with his memory. He can’t recall the last time he took aspirin, and though he’s just been looking over some files, he can’t remember any details. Holden hopes one good night of sleep will cure some of his symptoms, but has his doubts. Along with the fever, he’s been experiencing a sense of dread and is convinced that he’s hearing things. In the office earlier, he kept hearing other agents talking about him in negative ways, but their faces always looked friendly and open. By the time he left, Holden felt paranoid.

Holden bolts awake in the darkness and can’t remember where he is at first. His head feels like it’s about to explode. Where is Bill? What was he dreaming about? He remembers feeling trapped and sad and lonely and in danger. Kemper and Toback must have been there, but he can’t recall details. He rubs his face with his hand and realizes he’s crying. Holden lays back down, sobbing, confused and scared. Why isn’t Bill in the room? He cries himself back to sleep.


	4. Chapter 4

Once again, Bill finds himself in his hotel room, approaching 8:00 in the morning, with no sign of his partner. He calls Holden’s room and surprisingly gets a busy signal. Who was Holden calling at this hour?

After 15 minutes passes, Bill tries again and once more gets a busy signal. Now Bill is getting really worried. He calls down to the hotel office and explains the situation. An employee arrives with a key and he and Bill make their way down the hall to Holden’s room. Bill anxiously grabs the key from the hotel clerk and rushes to the door and opens it, thankful that Holden clearly felt too sick the previous night to use the chain lock on the inside of the door.

The scene that greets Bill instantly fills him with horror. Holden is sprawled haphazardly on the bed with his arm stretched out toward the phone, its receiver knocked off the cradle. Holden is clearly unconscious, very ill and breathing raggedly.

Bill turns to the clerk and shouts, “Call for an ambulance!” The man, to his credit, doesn’t question Bill but goes straight to the phone, hangs it up to reconnect the line and makes the call.

Bill rushes to Holden’s side and rolls him onto his back. The young man is trembling slightly and feels hot and dry to the touch. “Holden! Wake up!” Bill yells.

Holden’s only response is a quiet groan and gasping breaths.

Bill grows more panicky the longer Holden is unresponsive. Bill holds him tight, trying to calm the tremors and offer some sort of comfort, even in his unconscious state.

Bill rides in the ambulance with Holden to the hospital. Parkland, Bill reads as they pull into the emergency entrance, wondering why the name sounds familiar, then suddenly remembers that this is the hospital JFK was brought to after he was shot, the hospital where he died. These thoughts pass through Bill’s mind as he stares at Holden’s face, an oxygen mask obscuring his features. He should have forced Holden to see a doctor. He should have actually gone to his room last night to check on him.

The emergency room doctors run some tests on Holden, forcing Bill to wait in the small ER waiting room. Bill uses the time to call Shepard and Wendy and inform them of the situation. He asks Wendy to contact Holden’s parents. Shepard agrees to take care of the Dallas office. Once he finishes with his calls, Bill has nothing to distract him from his worry.

Finally a doctor comes to speak to Bill. He’s middle aged, portly, with a kind face. He leads Bill to a small office and has Bill sit down to go over Holden’s condition.

“Mr. Tench, Mr. Ford is very seriously ill. We ran an MRI and an EEG after we examined him upon arrival. Right now our diagnosis is encephalitis. Basically this is an inflammation of the brain tissue. But we’re going to perform a lumbar puncture to make sure. It’s a diagnostic tool that is more commonly known as a spinal tap. I know that sounds horrible, but we’ll keep Mr. Ford as comfortable as possible,” the doctor tells Bill.

Bill feels overwhelmed by all this information and wishes Wendy was with him. He asks the doctor, “Just how bad is this? I mean, could he die?”

The doctor responds gently, “There is that possibility. As I said, he’s very sick. But there are a lot of medications and other treatments available that can help fight this illness. We also don’t know how severe the encephalitis is quite yet. But judging from his current condition, it seems fairly serious.”

Bill rubs a hand roughly over his face, wishing he could wake from this nightmare, then asks, “Can I see him?”

“After the lumbar puncture, we’ll get him set up in the ICU. Since you’re the closest thing to next of kin right now, we’ll let you see him, but only for brief periods. We’ll let you know when he’s ready,” the doctor informs Bill, then leads him back to the waiting room.

After another period of waiting, Bill is finally summoned to Holden’s room in the ICU. There’s only one chair next to the bed. He sits and looks at his partner and friend. Holden no longer has an oxygen mask on, but is connected to a myriad of tubes and wires. Bill recognizes the IV line, but not much else. He’s not sure he wants to know.

Holden himself looks incredibly worn out, still flushed with fever, vulnerable and alone. Bill is surprised when in the middle of his perusal Holden’s eyes flutter open. His lids stay open at half mast and eventually he seems to recognize Bill.

“Hi, Bill,” Holden slurs. “What are you doing?”

“What am I doing?” Bill laughs. “I’m waiting for you to get well. Think you can hurry it up?”

Bill’s humor is wasted on Holden. “I think I’m sick. I had a bad dream last night. I woke up crying like a fucking baby. I couldn’t find you in the room, so it made me sadder.”

Bill falls silent, realizing he’s now speaking to a Holden without his usual defenses. He feels uncomfortable but also protective.

He tells Holden, “I’m sorry. You should have called me, Holden. I was just down the hall. I’m always there for you if you really need me.”

In a heartbeat Holden becomes petulant, saying, “I thought you were wishing it was Stan here instead of me. I know you guys are best buddies now.”

Bill is taken aback. “That’s not true. I barely know him. He’s a good guy, sure, but you and I, we’ve been through a lot together and we’re good friends. You know that.”

Holden looks off towards the door and says, “I thought so too. But now I’m not sure. And Debbie doesn’t want anything to do with me anymore.”

Bill can’t keep up with Holden’s ramblings. So he just listens.

“Debbie’s so beautiful. And too smart. I made her feel badly about herself. But that’s not why she doesn’t like me anymore. I know it’s because of Roger Wade. I feel so bad about that too. I didn’t mean to ruin his life, even if his wife thinks I did.” Holden has his eyes closed now.

Bill’s curiosity gets the better of him. “Who’s Roger Wade, Holden?”

Holden looks at Bill with surprise and says, “You know, nickels for tickles. The principal. I didn’t tell them to fire him, but fire him they did. His wife said I ruined their lives. I saw him later, you know. He looked drunk. It’s probably my fault. Debbie thinks it’s my fault. I don’t know. I’m not the thought police, apparently.”

Despite the fever’s hold on Holden’s speech, Bill figures out what he means. Bill never did follow up on Holden’s obsession with the principal. He sits in stunned silence as the idea that Holden somehow got the man fired sinks in.

Bill calms the sick man, “It’s not your fault, Holden. You easily could have been right about him.” Bill’s heart isn’t in it though, so he drops the subject.

But Holden isn’t done yet. “I’m sorry about a lot. But I’m being punished too, Bill. I’m gonna die from this and I’m gonna die alone. I’ll only have the dream Kemper and the dream Toback with me when I go.”

Holden looks so melancholy. Bill wonders how much of this is due to the man’s swollen brain and how much of it is what’s deep inside Holden and is only making its way out because of the fever. Either way, it’s terribly sad.

Bill leans further towards Holden and says kindly, “Holden, we all have things we’re sorry for. That’s part of life. But there’s a lot of good you’ve done too. Cases you’ve solved. Murderers you’ve put away due to your brilliance. And you’ve got friends too. Me, Debbie, Wendy. And your parents are on their way to Dallas right now. They’ll be here in a few hours.”

Holden rolls his eyes as best he can and says, “My parents. Boy, you haven’t met them yet. They don’t care. Don’t tell them I said that.”

“I won’t, Holden. I’m just saying you’re not alone. And you’re not gonna die. The doctor said they have all kinds of ways of treating what’s making you sick. Try to be positive,” Bill says in an attempt to comfort him.

“I’m positive I’m going to die,” Holden says with a half smile.

“Very funny,” Bill says with relief in his voice. “If you’re feeling good enough to joke, you must be doing okay.”

“But if I do die, Bill, tell Debbie I still love her, even if she hates me. Okay? And tell Wendy she’s so smart and beautiful. And tell my parents I forgive them. Because I feel really horrible right now. My head is going to fall off my body, I think.”

Then Holden gestures for Bill to come closer. “Bill, I need to tell you something.”

Bill stands over Holden and bends down a bit, asking, “What is it, Holden?”

Holden’s eyes fill with tears and he says, “I’m going to die now.”

And with that, Holden’s eyes roll up, and his body begins to shake hard in seizure. Bill’s first instinct is to grab Holden’s shoulders and try to still him. He hears the warning alarms of monitors going off and then senses other bodies in the room rushing about and voices speaking with urgency.

Then suddenly he’s out in the hallway, alone. In shock, Bill just stands there staring at the closed door. Soon a nurse arrives and leads him back into another small waiting room, this one on the ICU ward. He sits, staring at a fuzzy TV on a cart, thinking about everything Holden said, wondering what the hell happened.

Eventually the same portly doctor finds him and informs him that Holden has stabilized somewhat, but his temperature has climbed to 105 degrees and he is now in a coma. They will treat him with antiviral medications, painkillers, anticonvulsants, corticosteroids and will continue with the IV fluids. They sedate him so he has a chance to heal and so they can ventilate him, as his lungs have been compromised by the illness and the fever.

Bill understands about 50 percent of the doctor’s words. All he can do is ask, “Is he going to be okay?”

The doctor replies, “The lumbar puncture proved positive for viral encephalitis. Yes, it’s an extreme case. Mr. Ford has had a setback with the seizure, but it was somewhat to be expected. He’s stable now, as I said, and the situation is as serious as when we last spoke, but also his chance of recovery is the same as it was at that time.”

Bill feels like he’s reentering his own body with those words. “So he could be good as new if the medications work?” Bill asks.

The doctor pats Bill’s shoulder and says, “We’ll talk about recovery when Mr. Ford is out of the woods. Let’s concentrate on getting him past this serious stage first.”

Bill is less than comforted by the doctor’s answer, sensing how sick Holden is and how, if he gets better, his recovery could be quite difficult. But Holden’s still alive, still fighting, and where there’s life, there’s hope.

Holden’s parents arrive at Parkland Hospital a few hours after Holden falls into a coma. Bill greets Troy and Helen Ford with great interest. In a way, Bill has always thought of Holden coming into the world fully formed, this intense, strange person, always in a suit. He had never given a thought as to what Holden’s parents were like. His curiosity almost supersedes his worry. Almost.

Troy Ford is an impressive looking man in his late 50s. He also, interestingly, wears a suit, as if he came directly from a meeting to the hospital. And Helen Ford cuts a striking figure, wearing a casual but fashionable dress. She looks younger than her age and Bill sees many facial similarities between her and her son. If Bill had to use one word to describe them, that word would be “moneyed.”

They also strike Bill as somewhat cold. They go through all the motions of concern for Holden— asking both Bill and the doctor questions about their son’s condition and how he came to be so sick. But there’s something perfunctory about their behavior.

Bill invites them to have lunch in the hospital cafeteria, and they accept. Once they have their food and sit at a table, Bill figures out what’s bothering him. Neither of the Fords have yet asked to see their son.

“After lunch, I’ll be happy to ask the doctors if you can see Holden. Now that you’re here, they might even kick me out,” Bill tells them.

Troy wipes his mouth with a napkin and says, “Of course. Yes. We should see Holden. But isn’t he unconscious? Maybe we should wait until he awakens.”

Helen adds, “It’s rather pointless, isn’t it, if Holden can’t talk to us, see us?”

Bill is at a loss for words for a few seconds, then manages to say, “He’s in a coma, but you never know what he might be aware of. And besides, I assumed you’d want to see him for yourselves. I mean, to see how he looks.”

Troy seems uncomfortable. “Maybe we should, Helen. We won’t be able to stay for very much longer, unfortunately. We both have work to return to. When Holden’s better, we can always visit him in Virginia.”

Bill feels his gorge rise. “I’m sorry, but I don’t think you realize how sick Holden is. There is a chance he could die. I’m sure the doctor mentioned the gravity of his situation.”

Helen replies, “The doctor also told us there’s a good chance for his recovery. There’s not much we can do here right now for Holden. Anyway, he’s always been very independent. He’s made it clear in the past that he can take care of himself.”

“What about Debbie?” Bill asks. “Should we call her?”

Troy and Helen glance at each other in obvious confusion. “Who’s Debbie?” Helen asks.

Bill’s patience is running thin. “What did Holden do to you guys to make you care so little for him?”

Troy answers, angrily, “That is not a question you have any right to ask, Mr. Tench. You clearly have no knowledge of this family and there’s simply no call for rudeness.”

“Fine,” Bill says, standing up. “Tell you what. I’ve lost my appetite. I think I’ll go back upstairs and see if I can sit with Holden for a bit. You two can do whatever you want.” 

Bill punches the button for the elevator with more force than necessary and breathes deeply, trying to regain some degree of calm.

The doctors allow Bill to sit with Holden for a half hour. Bill spends the time staring at Holden. He’s never seen anyone in a coma before. The ventilator tube disturbs Bill a lot. It looks so invasive and painful. And knowing that it’s responsible for the regular rhythm of Holden’s breathing disturbs him. He can’t imagine not breathing for himself. And Holden’s face looks waxen, so still, as if he could already be dead.

Bill holds Holden’s hand, the one without the IV and the clothespin-like device that apparently measures his pulse. He does this to have some kind of contact with the man, but also to reassure himself that Holden still lives. The warmth of his skin, though somewhat from fever, makes Bill feel better.

It’s late by the time Bill’s half hour is over. The Fords are nowhere to be found. There’s nothing for Bill to do but go back to the hotel. He leaves the hotel room phone number with the nurses in the ICU in case he’s needed and then takes a taxi back to the hotel.

The next morning, Bill somehow oversleeps and wakes at 9:00 a.m. He mutters, “Fuck,” then gets ready to go to the hospital. He knows he can’t avoid the case for long, but he wants to check on Holden’s condition first.

Bill is more than a little shocked when he enters the ICU unit and sees Shepard talking to the Fords. The conversation seems to be at an end, as Troy and Helen turn away from Shepard as one and start walking away from Holden’s room. They politely but cooly nod at Bill as they pass and Bill returns the favor.

Bill approaches Shepard with, “Sir, I’m surprised to see you here. Is something happening with the case? I was going to head over to the office after finding out how Holden is doing.”

Shepard shakes his head in the negative and says, “Don’t worry about that, Bill. I brought Agent Reynolds with me, and he and another agent from Quantico will be taking over the case.”

Bill quickly says, “Stan’s here? I’m quite capable of handling the case myself.”

“I know you are, Bill. But you don’t have to,” Shepard says. “I want you to stay with Ford, make sure he’s taken care of.”

Bill can’t mask his disbelief, and Shepard adds, “I know. You didn’t think I cared. But Holden is one of ours, despite his annoying, crazy ways. And we take care of our own, don’t we? Plus, I just met his parents, and I think he’ll need additional assistance from you if he’s going to recover.”

When Bill doesn’t respond, Shepard continues, “And I already talked to Dr. Carr about perhaps hiring a few more agents for the BSU. If there’s enough work there to wear one young agent down to a nub, there should be enough for two or three more healthy agents.”

Bill smiles, “I promise I won’t tell Holden. He’d never let you live it down.”

Shepard sighs and responds, “Much appreciated, Bill. Now, I’m heading over to the office myself to see if I can help in any way. Then I’m flying back. Tell Agent Ford we’ll be impatiently waiting his return to the BSU.”

With that, Shepard walks away, leaving Bill shaking his head with bemusement and confusion.


	5. Chapter 5

Bill spends the next three days sitting with Holden, first in 30-minute segments and then, later, when the hospital staff starts to feel badly for him, for longer periods. He takes breaks in the cafeteria and makes a lot of phone calls, to Nancy, Wendy, the Dallas FBI agents.

But mostly he sits with Holden and sometimes talks to him, a comforting monologue. He discusses mundane matters, mostly to get his mind off of Holden’s barely moving body and the distressing sensation that the young man is there, but not. He’s surprised that he misses the nonstop chattering and the intense presence of Holden’s overactive and agonizingly unrelenting intellect.

And Bill talks to stop thinking about Holden himself. Young, but acting old. Yet sometimes unbelievably naive. Obsessed with work, living mostly alone. No social skills to speak of. What kind of childhood did Holden’s parents give him, and how did that mold him into the man he’s become? Also Bill can’t help but wonder if this is what Brian’s future looks like.

Bill runs into the Fords one more time, just as they’re exiting Holden’s room. Helen puts a gentle hand on Bill’s arm and pulls him aside.

“Mr. Tench, Troy and I are leaving. The doctor tells us Holden’s condition is improving. The brain swelling is going down. They expect him to wake soon,” Helen explains.

“So you’re leaving now? I don’t get it,” Bill says in exasperation.

Helen sighs. “Holden wouldn’t want to see us. It’s complicated. Maybe we were too hard on him when he was younger, but we raised him the best way we knew how. He hasn’t been a part of our lives for the past 8 years, since he graduated college. It was his choice, but we didn’t do much to change his mind. We’re very strict Catholics, and Holden never agreed with our beliefs. In fact, he often mocked us.”

Bill shakes his head in bewilderment, then says, “But I’m sure he’d be happy to see you both. It would mean a lot to him, especially since you’ve drifted apart. I hate to think of him waking up and my mug being the first thing he sees.”

Helen interrupts Bill. “If you can, please just tell him that we love him and if he needs anything, please call us.” Then she turns and rejoins Troy, and they walk away from Bill.  
In Holden’s room, Bill peers closely at Holden’s face, looking for signs of the supposed improvement. But he looks the same. Bill takes a short break to call Nancy and vents about Holden’s parents.

On day four of Holden’s coma, Bill gets another shock when Debbie arrives.

“Debbie, how did you know?” Bill sputters.

Debbie rolls her eyes and replies, “It would have been nice if you had called me, Bill. But I got a call from Nancy instead. How’s Holden doing?”

“I’m sorry, Debbie. I wasn’t sure what Holden wanted… in regards to you. Uh, he’s actually improving. God, for a while I wasn’t sure if he was going to make it. He’s still in a coma though. He’s really sick.”

Bill sees Debbie tear up slightly before she says, “Bill, Holden and I aren’t together anymore, but I still care about him. Very much. I should have been here to help him, to help you. Can I speak to a doctor for more details?”

Bill asks a nurse to page the doctor and after an hour, he sees Debbie go into a room with the doctor. He returns to Holden’s room and sits in the chair.

“Hey, Holden. Guess what. Debbie’s here. You better wake up. From what you’ve told me, she won’t have much patience with this Sleeping Beauty act of yours,” Bill says, then feels embarrassed that he might have been overheard.

Soon Debbie enters the room and Bill offers her the chair. She smiles at him and sits. “The doctor says he’s improved enough that they’re going to take the breathing tube out and cut back on the sedatives,” she informs Bill. “Good news, definitely.”

The two exit the room for the extubation and when they return, the difference in Holden’s appearance just from having the tube gone is amazing. He still has a nasal cannula feeding him extra oxygen, but he looks more like he’s sleeping. Bill feels such relief, he smiles broadly at Debbie and says, “For the first time, I feel like he’s going to be okay.”

Debbie looks sharply at Bill. “For such a prickly guy, Holden somehow gets the most unlikely people to care for him,” she notes with good humor.

“I wish he knew that,” Bill answered seriously.

They both gaze at Holden’s face soberly.

“How did he get so sick, Bill? Debbie asks. “I mean, wasn’t he taking care of himself at all?”

Bill looks closely at Debbie’s face for any sign of judgment against him, but it’s as if the young woman is almost speaking to herself.

Bill feels some guilt anyway. “I knew he was sick, and I kept telling him to see a doctor. He just gave me the same line over and over about being all right, that it was just a headache. He wasn’t sleeping well either. Nightmares.”

“About what?” Debbie asks, looking like she already knows the answer.

“From his rambling when his fever was really high, I’d say he was dreaming about a few of the men we’ve been interviewing. Awake, he acts like all this gruesome shit doesn’t faze him in the slightest,” Bill says.

Debbie adds, “But at night, his subconscious mind won’t leave him alone.”

“Something like that,” Bill says.

By the next day, Holden shows signs of waking. The doctor calls Debbie and Bill into his office to warn them of the possible complications Holden could suffer from upon waking— memory loss, difficulty with speaking or movement, emotional volatility, irritability, depression— basically any side-effect possible with a brain injury.

Bill and Debbie had been so focused on Holden’s survival that they hadn’t even considered complications, so they are a bit overwhelmed. Holden will definitely require some time in a rehabilitation center. Fortunately, the hospital has staff specifically focusing on patients’ post-hospitalization requirements.

Bill is enjoying a smoke break while Debbie dozes in the chair when Holden begins waking up. Debbie stirs at the sound of Holden’s groan and she’s on her feet and calling for the nurses immediately. After they finish fussing over a now-awake Holden, Debbie is allowed to return to his bedside.

“Holden, how are you feeling?” Debbie asks.

Holden blinks slowly and says, with a very quiet and slurred voice, “Debbie? What? Where am I?”

“You’re in a hospital in Dallas. You were really sick. You were in a coma. You’re gonna be okay now though,” Debbie says.

“Debbie, why are we in Dallas? Are we on vacation?” Holden says with visible confusion. Debbie barely understands him.

“Holden, you were on a case with Bill,” Debbie tells Holden, nervously sensing that Holden definitely is suffering from memory loss. “Do you remember anything?”

“You invited me to some kind of… a school thing? What do you call it? You were doing it at school. I think. But did I go?” Holden mutters, just as Bill comes back into the room.

“Hey, you’re awake, kid.” Then Bill notices Debbie’s somewhat upset look, so he quickly backs out of the room, saying, “I’ll give you a moment, Debbie. Be right back.”

Debbie stops Bill with, “No, Bill, come in.” She looks back at Holden, and in that short amount of time, Holden has fallen asleep. She sighs.

Bill looks at her questioningly. Debbie tells him, “He’s okay, but slurring his words a lot. And on a personally awkward note, he seems to think we’re still together, so it’s safe to say his memory has some holes. I can’t tell him the truth yet. He’s had so much trauma.”

“It’s okay, Debbie. There’ll be time for that later. Let’s get him back on his feet again first,” Bill says.

The next day, Holden is more alert. When Debbie arrives, he smiles at her. She gives a strained smile in return, and it’s as if he suddenly remembers. His smile falters and he turns his gaze away.

“Holden, it’s okay,” Debbie tells him. “The doctor said you might have some memory issues.”

Holden looks back at her and says miserably, “That must have been horrible for you, being dragged back into all this. I’m sorry.”

Debbie notes how slurred Holden’s words are, almost in a clinical way, measuring how much therapy he’ll need after rehab.

“Holden, a few days ago we thought you were going to die. Please look at the bigger picture. And you have nothing to apologize for.” Debbie reaches out to Holden’s hand to emphasize her words, but Holden slowly pulls back.

Holden spends the next few days mostly sleeping. Debbie goes home after giving Holden a long hug. Bill is called back to Quantico. Seems Shepard’s generosity extends only so far. 

And Holden is transferred to a rehabilitation clinic in Virginia, where he will have physical therapy to improve his weakness, speech therapy to treat his slurred speech, psychological therapy to help him deal with the trauma of his illness and the difficulty of the recovery.

Both Debbie and Bill visit Holden regularly in the rehab center. Holden tackles his therapy sessions with the fervor of a man who wants to recover as quickly as possible and return to his previous life, and he impresses the workers at the center.

Bill fills in the holes in Holden’s memory, mostly from the few weeks leading to and in Dallas. Though he tries to hide it, Holden is clearly depressed and his emotions are close to the surface, which embarrasses him. His frustration manifests as anger towards himself, but he continues to improve slowly.

A month after his hospitalization, Holden is able to walk normally with the help of a cane, and his speech sounds fine and is only marred by the very occasional inability to remember a certain word when he’s in mid-speech.

Holden’s progress is cheered by his doctors and therapists, but as he improves, his anxiety about his post-rehab life increases. How is he going to take care of himself until he’s more self-sufficient?

Bill and Debbie arrive at the rehab center during Holden’s last week there and Bill simply tells him, “Debbie and I are going to help you when you get out of here until you’re able to take care of yourself again.”

Holden just says, “What?”

Debbie speaks up. “I’ll come over to your apartment in the daytime, make sure you’re eating and getting everything you need. I can study at your place. I’ve already scheduled most of my classes for the late afternoon and evenings.”

Bill then adds, “And Nancy will pick you up once she gets Brian settled at home after school and will bring you over to my house. You’ll have dinner with us. I’ll make sure you do any further therapy the docs suggest. You can sleep in our guest room. Nancy and Brian are happy to have you as well. You can even help me with the case files I bring home.”

Holden seems overwhelmed. He’s close to tears, and this angers him. But all he can say is, “Why would you want to help me like this?” Debbie thinks that may be the saddest thing she’s ever heard.

Bill answers, “Does it matter? You need the help, and we want to help. Simple.”

Though Holden’s general health and speech improves, exhaustion remains the one thing he can’t fight against. He simply can’t stay awake for long. Debbie studies while Holden sleeps. Bill goes over cases while Holden sleeps. Holden even falls asleep in midsentence, much to both his caretakers’ amusement.

Eventually, even the exhaustion begins to ease its hold on Holden. One night at Bill’s house, Holden and Brian are reading while Nancy and Bill watch TV. Nancy excuses herself to go to bed early, kissing Bill and Brian and giving Holden a hug.

Brian is reading a Hardy Boys mystery, and Holden is reading “Helter Skelter.” Bill turns off the TV and says to Holden, “Time for speech therapy. Go ahead and read a few pages of your book out loud.” Aware of the inappropriate nature of Holden’s reading material, Bill sends Brian off to bed.

This is Holden’s least favorite part of his otherwise comfortable evenings with the Tenches. Holden begins reading, careful to clearly enunciate every syllable of every word. But tonight, he just doesn’t have the concentration. He stares at the phrase “technical consultant” for 30 full seconds, trying to remember what it means. Bill waits patiently. He stumbles often and suddenly, in utter frustration, bursts into tears. Ugly sobs pour out of him until he gets himself under control.

Horrified, Holden apologizes to Bill.

Bill says, “It’s honest emotion, Holden. Just let it out. That’s how people connect, by sharing pieces of themselves, even the parts they’re ashamed of. Especially those parts.”

Bill looks uncomfortable and then says, “Holden, I need to apologize for something.”

“Bill, there can be nothing in the world you need to apologize to me for right now,” Holden says earnestly.

“No, I was angry at you for a while. You and Brian that night you came to dinner— I saw how he was with you. Brian never starts a conversation with me. We rarely speak to each other. It hurt me, seeing you together,” Bill explains.

“Bill, I’m sorry,” Holden begins.

Bill interrupts. “No. Stop. I was being petty. Then I took it out on you with Stan. That’s all I’ll say about it. Now, let’s continue."

Holden smiles genuinely, takes a deep breath and continues reading aloud.


End file.
